


new year, old feelings

by unhaunting



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Fluff, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:20:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28474575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unhaunting/pseuds/unhaunting
Summary: The pack is gathered together to celebrate New Year's and Derek decides to act on some long-buried feelings for a certain human.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 4
Kudos: 135





	new year, old feelings

All around him, Derek's friends and packmates whoop and holler and cheer, glasses clinking and laughter bubbling. The TV blares as the seconds tick away and the crowds on both sides of the screen chant along with the countdown toward the new year.

_"Ten!"_

Derek takes a quick glance around the loft where they’re all gathered in celebration, noting with a certain fondness that everyone seems to be paired off, snuggled up close with their significant others and ready to partake in the tradition of sharing a kiss with their loved one at the stroke of midnight. It makes him happy to know that they’re happy in this aspect at least; they all deserve to have something good in their crazy lives.

_“Nine!”_

A small smile stretches across his lips as he watches over them all from his spot in the corner of the couch, but it softens somewhat when something knocks into his arm.

_"Eight!"_

Not everyone is paired off, he realizes, when he looks over to see Stiles slumped against him. Stiles either hadn't joined in on the countdown from the start or has since stopped, but regardless, he sighs heavily and drops his head down to Derek’s shoulder.

_“Seven!”_

Derek takes in the sight of him—sagging into his side, corners of his mouth just slightly turned down, eyebrows drawn together—and his scent. Stiles' natural spicy-sweetness is tinged with the sourness of anxiety (though that’s no surprise) and mixed with the woodsy warmth of the comfort that comes from being surrounded by pack, but quickly flooding with the thick, salty must of sadness and longing. Something deep in Derek's gut twists unpleasantly, breaking through years of denial, suppression, and guilt to rise to the surface and make itself known again.

_“Six!”_

Acting on the impulse he's long kept in check, Derek turns bodily to face Stiles, the movement displacing the human and making him fall into his chest. Stiles startles at that, the drink in his hand staying miraculously unspilled after the jostling it's just taken. He stares up at Derek with wide eyes and an arched brow in a look of surprised confusion.

_“Five!”_

Derek just smiles softly down at him, holding his gaze as he lifts one hand to gently cup the side of Stiles' face, angling it up more, his thumb rubbing softly along Stiles' cheekbone as he notes the sudden uptick in Stiles' heart rate.

_“Four!”_

His gaze flicks down to Stiles’ mouth—Stiles licks his lips—then back up to his big doe eyes, deep whiskey brown and so beautiful Derek could get lost in them for days. Stiles’ scent changes just slightly, the anxiety still there, but more excited than nervous, and Derek’s heart leaps with unbidden hope.

_“Three!”_

Derek drops his hand to Stiles’ waist and leans in just a bit, enough that Stiles will know what he’s silently asking, but still keeping his distance should Stiles not want this, not want him.

Even as he does it, Derek thinks he must’ve lost his damn mind because this is crazy.

This is stupid.

This is everything Derek's wanted since he first laid eyes on the boy. Though no longer the lanky, coltish thing that stumbled his way into Derek's life, Stiles is still every bit as funny and smart and vibrant and so, so stupidly brave. Just now with a light, scratchy stubble along his jaw that Derek aches to feel beneath his lips, longer tousled hair that Derek wants to run his fingers through, and a more well-defined musculature that reflects the strength and resilience Stiles holds inside, truly looking the part of someone who runs with wolves.

Derek is in awe of him, can’t get enough. He finds himself staring sometimes, lost in thought of what it would be like to wake up to Stiles next to him in bed, or even just to hold his hand, how perfectly those long fingers would entwine with his. Derek’s even grown to find Stiles’ ceaseless rambling and graceless flailing to be more endearing than annoying over the years. Everything about him came together to make up someone Derek could see himself faling in love with.

From the moment those feelings first crept up on him, Derek buried them deep, deep down within himself. Closed them up in a box and shoved them in some far corner to sit and collect dust amongst the wreckage of his mind. It was easier than having to acknowledge that he had a crush on a teenager, especially after, well, _everything_. As time went on, the box got kicked around, opened up, rummaged through and added to. It’s overflowing now, so much so that it’s impossible to ignore, but still never emptied out. Even as they grew closer—from enemies to acquaintances to friends—Derek never got up the courage to fully unpack it, take stock of everything he’s hidden away. Stiles deserves so much better than Derek anyway, deserves so much more than Derek could ever hope to give.

That box has been sitting there for almost a decade, so why Derek is on the verge of upending it now, he doesn’t know. Maybe it's the spirit of New Year's, the precipice of change and the thrill of becoming someone new, taking risks. Maybe it's the way Stiles is looking at him, like he wants what Derek wants, has been holding onto feelings just the same… That alone makes the inevitable mess worth it.

_“Two!”_

Derek would give Stiles the world. He would lasso the moon and the sun and all the stars in the sky if that was Stiles’ wish. He’ll give him this, too, if it’s what Stiles wants. So even if this all ends in disaster, if Stiles later decides he'd rather be with someone who isn’t so bogged down with trauma and baggage and guilt, who isn’t as messed up and damaged as Derek is—even if this is just for one night; one brief, heart-wrenchingly beautiful moment—Derek decides it's time. He's opening the box and he's not closing it again for anything.

He lets his eyes fall shut and he swears—he _hopes_ —he senses Stiles pushing himself up to close the distance between them.

_"One!"_

Their lips meet just as the room erupts into even louder cheers and cries of _"Happy New Year!"_ and all that deep-seated insecurity suddenly, blissfully, melts away. Derek distantly registers the sound of a glass clattering to the floor and something cold and wet soaking into his sock, but he pays it no mind, every other thing around him drowned out by the steadying weight of Stiles’ arms around his neck and the warmth of Stiles' lips on his, soft and pliant and still kissing him even as the commotion of the room dies down some. He feels Stiles shifting, crawling into his lap, and hugs him closer. The box is upended, contents sparking, exploding like fireworks and getting everywhere like glitter. Filling every crevice until Stiles is the only thing on his mind and the rest of the world is rendered obsolete by all the bright, shiny feelings he’s finally letting himself feel.

When they part, Stiles' face is flushed and happy-looking, eyes hooded and lips quirked up into a satisfied smirk. Stiles gives Derek another kiss, and lets his lips linger there for a short while, brushing against Derek's in a way that should not feel as familiar and right as it does.

Derek feels Stiles' mouth move, not in another kiss, but like he's saying something. He blinks his eyes open and reluctantly pulls away to ask, "What?"

"Rabbit," Stiles says, like that one word is explanation enough. When Derek just stares blankly back, he clarifies, "You say 'rabbit' on the first day of the month to bring good luck."

Derek chuckles softly, because that is the most adorably ridiculous thing he’s ever heard and so, _so_ very Stiles. And yet more glitter. He arches a brow as he says, "Stiles, look at our lives. Just last week we were being terrorized by _pixies_. I don't think good luck is something that will come to us quite that easily."

It’s Stiles turn to laugh, and he shakes his head, expression settling into something fond. "I don't know," he muses, soft smile widening. "I’d say my life is pretty lucky… I met you, didn't I?"

Derek is all at once shocked into disbelief, but heartened and hopeful and still wanting. Mind still happily drowning in glitter.

He can't help but to kiss him again.

**Author's Note:**

> meanwhile: the rest of the pack is in the background all like "FINALLY" and exchanging money because of course they would places bets on when these two idiots will just kiss already, damnit!!! asdjskljghf
> 
> ↪ idk where the glitter came from but it's there. everywhere.


End file.
